Whatever People Say I Am
by Canadino
Summary: The era of Prohibition is over. But then again, so is the era which we know it. After 2012, peace reigns above and underground businesses reign below. But of course, whatever people say I am, that's what I'm not. Collab album fic.
1. Choo Choo

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: Choo Choo – Artic Monkeys

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Whatever People Say I Am is the _Speak_ side of the collaboration between Canadino and Plasticframed Paintings. This side will explore the civilian side of the Solidite reign, including the involvement of the pairings Antonio/Romano, Ludwig/Feliciano, Leik/Remy (DenNor), Ned/Charlie (Netherlands/Belgium), and a smattering of others. Because it is a collaboration, there will be crossovers with PP's story, so it is advised to read both stories! Without further ado, this is an introduction to a world in the near future.

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_1 – Choo Choo_

_2012 _

_Caused by global warming, pollution, and general neglect, the planet Earth experiences numerous disastrous earthquakes and other natural disasters. The last big earthquake sent a fissure across the Americas, splitting both continents into half down the middle. Asia also experienced a split, breaking diagonally across Russia into Europe. There was mass confusion, terror, death, and after the natural disasters stopped, a massive world war broke out over law and order._

_Order was established by a small group of mercenaries who referred to themselves as the 'Solidities', whom as their name implied, created a strict sense of peace to counter the chaos that had claimed the world for the past years. They spread their influence through the battered nations, claiming supporters and resisters, who were instantly crushed. In just a short year, the Solidities stabilized each continent under its power and brought harmony back to a war-ravaged battlefield._

_2014_

_The first of the Solidarity Laws are created. They ban the use of traditional firearms, nuclear power, and fossil fuels. While these laws are met with opposition, the general consensus approves of these changes and encourages more in the same fashion._

_2016_

_The perfection of biological warfare, renamed as part of Universal Security, proves the end of modern weaponry. Firearms are allowed as long as there are no bullets or gunpowder; all such items are rounded up and destroyed. Viruses and physiological punishment are used on criminals or resisters. Opposition to Solidities rule is easily and quickly silenced and such activity rarely hits public eye. _

_Support and funding provides massive technological breakthrough. Universal healthcare and aid ends world hunger and poverty._

_2020_

_The Restrictor Laws are created. They forbid gambling, alcohol, prostitution, private wealth, and habitat destruction in any way, including hunting and mining. Meat is raised in tubes. Precious metals are synthetically created. Inherences are seized by the government and previously privately owned land is also seized and used for public property. Art and literature is used solely for positive, chaste lessons. _

_The biggest book burning in history occurs, where several banned books and every single one of their digital and physical copies are rounded up and deleted. Several titles include _The Communist Manifesto, A Clockwork Orange, _and_ Lolita._ All perverse and inflammatory titles are added on the banned list and destroyed._

_The population is urged to be respectable. While religion, sexuality, gender, and ethnicity are not called into question, any known deviant is collected and never seen again._

_2022_

_Religion is now regulated by the government, who sifts through the existent religions and eradicates any deemed 'unproductive'. The remaining are closely followed by pre-established laws and overseen by the Solidities to see no deviation is created. _

_2023_

_In the midst of mandatory schooling, an abundance of jobs, and paid taxes, the Solidities experience a ripple in their perfect society when a group who call themselves Liberators attempt a coup on several nations where their number has taken hold. After several failed communications, bribes, and compromises, the two groups reach a tense stalemate._

_2025_

_When a Liberator assassinates a prominent Solidite, war erupts and seizes the world once again. The world is extended along a tender string of war until several years later, when rough tsunamis off the coast of India and another tremor rock the Americas and the Solidities seize control again in this panic. The Liberators are privately taken care of, while the public perceives the situation as the Solidities finally making the rogue Liberators see the light. _

_2033_

_Peace prevails and the Restrictor Laws are revised and enforced._

_2037_

_The Solidities create its first law-enforcement program, entitled STOP, short for Service To Oversee Peace, publicly believed to keep the peace. However, it is an unspoken fact that they are being used to find and persecute underground activity._

_2043_

_Regulus Diktat is sworn into office as World Chancellor after statistically voted in with 98% approval. He promises seven years of peace in his term._

_2046_

_STOP successfully carries out a raid that jails a couple hundred citizens caught in an underground speakeasy. Conspiracy theories abound, but often debunked. Government public approval rating rises. Diktat is praised for his role in the sting._

_2050_

_Diktat runs for re-election and starts his second term in office. He promises peace for another seven years._

--

Note: Hey guys. So if it wasn't clear, me and PP will be writing two separate stories that intertwine with each other. I will be writing from the Speak bar's point of view, while PP will be writing from the Easy bar's point of view. I hope you will pay him some homage as well. I know this isn't much to begin a story, but please keep reading.


	2. The View From the Afternoon

**Disclaimer: : The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: Track 2 – The View from the Afternoon – Arctic Monkeys

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_2 – The View From the Afternoon_

Romano Vargas crumpled the scrap of paper in his hands as he stood outside the general store. Whoever had built it obviously reminisced for the times of the Wild West, as it looked more of a saloon than a general store, with flapping doors (there was a silver glitter of a gate overhead for closing time) and a wooden sign with large, maroon letters 'General Store'. He didn't know if the tumbleweed in the alley was there by pure luck, or someone put it there for aesthetic purposes. In fact, he swore he could hear a train in the distance, but that was probably his imagination. He had the other sleek buildings around him and a car or two that whirred past that kept him reminded that he was still in the present, be it a futuristic present far detached from the Wild West era.

For example, no one built stores out of wood anymore.

He hitched the bag over his shoulder, trying to act nonchalant, as if despite his appearance of a high school student, he really was much older than that (never mind he was wearing the uniform and he still had the awkward, telltale signs of puberty!). Letting it hang against his hip, he sighed as he opened his hand to smooth out the note again.

_Her name is Charlie_.

It was a strange message, but it came attached to a flier for this General Store place, and the handwriting was familiar, so he had ditched last period and came here. Romano looked back up at the tacky sign, then to the lighted interior behind the swinging door, and pocketed the wrinkled note.

The first thing he smelled was gunpowder. Again, he had to remind himself that he had not gone back in time; but hanging on the walls were antique shotguns, a reminder of primitive warfare. He walked past shelves of dried beef jerky and clocks and pantyhose to inspect one of the guns, cocking his head as he saw initials etched into the barrel of one.

"Those ain't for sale, dahling."

Romano jumped, quickly composing himself in vain effort to seem older. There was a girl (well, if he were to be honest, she was more of a young woman, really) leaning against the glass counter, where there were other strange antiques like crossbows and aged hand grenades. She was holding a magazine in front of her, but her eyes were trained on him. For her warning, there was amusement in her eyes, and she broke into a smile.

"What'cha here fo, dahling?"

Acting as if this stranger calling him 'darling' was not annoying to him, Romano shrugged, knowing he probably looked up to no good, his back arched slightly in a slouch with his uniform shirt sticking out from under his school sweater. _Her name is Charlie_. But he did not see a nametag on her shirt.

"What's your name?" Maybe it wasn't a roundabout way to find out, but then again, he wasn't a very roundabout person.

"Well, I got a lot. My mum calls me sweethaht, the kids down the street call me Blondeh…" At this point, she tossed her golden hair about, fluffing up the red ribbon in her hair. "My baby calls me Bels, and I've gone by Nansay, or Chahlay, or Brus. Take yeh pick."

There was something about her tone that made Romano wonder if it was a spiel she had memorized. When he didn't say anything for a while, she shrugged, turning back to her page. "Take yeh time, dahling. I got all day."

_Her name is Charlie._ Had she said something about Charlie? Or Chahlay as she said it?

"I think Charlie sounds best for you," Romano said finally. The woman looked up and blinked, as if she wasn't sure what he was getting at. For a moment, Romano thought frantically that this wasn't the 'her' the note referred, but Charlie broke into a grin.

"Why didn't ya say so in tha firs' place?" She beckoned to him and opened the door separating the store from behind the counter. Romano was still not sure why the codename was Charlie, but he didn't really care. Someone had thought it would be smart of him to come, and he would just have to play the cards he was given. Walking around the counter, Charlie threw a sign ('Ring bell for service') on the counter and led him to the back.

"I wasn't sure if ya was heah for that, but I guess I shouldn't be too suhprised about 'nything anymoah." Charlie walked down a hallway into a room full of general store supplies, busts of deer whose eyes glittered at Romano as he walked past them. There was more gunpowder in here, he could smell, but he thought he smelled something else underneath.

"Come ahn, dahling, don't be shy!" Charlie fished into her pencil skirt to find a string of keys. Romano didn't know how he couldn't have seen it before; this Charlie figure looked much too sophisticated to be running just a general store. Tight blouse, pencil skirt, red heels…with a click, the lock she had fidgeted for opened and she opened the door to reveal a set of stairs.

"Ah suppose I should go down firs', eh? To announce yeh." Charlie took the steps a couple at a time, humming. "Close tha' door, won't ya? Don' want anyone accidentally coming in heah without tha' password!"

Romano shut the door and instantly, lights near his feet blinked on and he picked his way slowly behind Charlie, following her bouncing hair and happy tune. "Where exactly is _here_?" he asked gingerly.

Charlie stopped, turning and putting her hands on her hips. "Now ah know you didn't jus' ask meh that! You ain't a cop, ah you? I can't take ya furtha if that's what ya ah!"

Romano shook his head quickly, fishing out the slip of paper and presenting it to her. "I just got this, that's all."

Charlie took the paper and ran it over in her fingers. She barely glanced at the words before grinning. "Personal invite, eh? Yo, Tony!" Skipping down the remainder of the stairs, she pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairs and Romano heard soft music come from the room, along with the glittering of glasses. "Yo, Tony! Yeh little sparrow flew into tha' coop!"

Romano followed her into a room, dimly lit and reminding him of the jazz bars he had seen in the textbooks, before the Era of Solidity. In fact, there was a stage in the front, where a woman clad in a cocktail dress was crooning an old song into the microphone as a smattering of people sat and watched her.

The overwhelming smell in the room, of course, was alcohol.

"Romano!" Romano tore his eyes away from his historical wonder to the bar, where a cheerful brunette was smiling at him. Charlie was leaning across the bar and waving him over excitedly.

"Antonio," Romano said, the surprise in his voice tearing down the already fragile show of maturity he had set up for himself. His feet ignoring his instinct to run, he came closer and Antonio grinned.

"Honestly, you don't come see your old school councilor? I'm disappointed! I helped you get into that school, you know!"

"Sure. All you did was gibber gabber to everyone who was assigned to you and you pulled some strings. I heard you got the slip the year I left."

Antonio shrugged mysteriously, shaking a mixer. "There were better things to do."

"Like opening something like this?"

"Hey! It was Charlie's and my joint business!" His grin matched Charlie's. "She said she had just found a store and she wasn't making much so we turned it into this! Come on! We even named it. Speak! Right?"

"Right, dahling," Charlie nodded. "Now afta I close, you betta mix me up an appletini. It's been a long day."

--

It was really love at first sight. One moment, Feliciano found himself being hassled around in a dark, seedy alley (god knows why he was in that part in the first place) by a creep who seemed nice (really, the guy said he was a good guy!) and then he found himself being almost violated. His back was quite literally against the wall as the long haired delinquent smiled as he leaned into Feliciano.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen. I'm not legal. Can you just let me go now?" Gripping his school bag, the thick strap across his chest, Feliciano bit his lip, trying to catch one of his wild thoughts to find a way to escape. "Please, really, I've got nothing…"

"You could just give your big brother a kiss, that's all~"

"I've got a big brother and he says I shouldn't kiss strangers. I wanna go home." Maybe if this man smelled like trash and looked like he just crawled out of a gutter, he would be more afraid. Instead, the calm blue eyes just peered at him from under well cared for hair and his appearance suggested more college graduate than hobo. Still, it was not a position he wanted to find himself in; corned by a stranger in the evening as he was going home. Feliciano managed a smile. "Please?"

"If that's how you talk yourself out of getting raped, I should teach you how that's done."

"Don't! I've…I'm sure I've got relatives where you're from! My family lives all over the place!"

The blonde merely chuckled, amusement over lust in his eyes as he slid a hand across Feliciano's cheek. There was a musky cologne in the air that didn't quite agree with the younger Vargas. "Come on, darling, don't be skittish. Big brother Francis's got you, and he won't let you fall…"

"You will unhand the boy or I _will_ shoot." The voice was a viRusgun in the tense silence, a shadow that fell upon the both of them in the alley. Both heads turned to the fresh face; instantly, the eyes were pulled to the uniform – the unmistakable black and dark green of a STOP member. The second thing that attached the eyes were the brass buttons that glinted in the dark and the badge of certification, held out to Francis's face to mean business. "There will be no lewd business in public with STOP members on patrol."

Francis quickly withdrew his hands and Feliciano scampered quickly toward the STOP officer. "I wasn't doing anything," Francis said smoothly, raising his arms in surrender. "I thought I recognized him and I had to get a little closer to see. As you can see, I haven't done anything; I haven't stripped him, I haven't gotten under any clothing, all I did was get close, but I suppose I went a bit far."

Feliciano wasn't sure why, but his mouth opened to defend this would-be rapist. "It's true. He didn't do anything!"

The officer, a bit more menacing than Feliciano had expected, glanced at him before gesturing with the viRusgun at Francis. "You'll get off with a warning this time. If I or any of my fellow STOP officers catch you at it again, you will be arrested for inappropriate behavior."

"Of course," Francis purred, slinking into the darkness and disappearing down the alley, mysterious despite his friendly exterior. When he had gone, the officer turned to Feliciano. The boy had opened his mouth to apologize and found that despite the STOP officer's scowl and general sense of strictness, could not speak and sighed instead.

He didn't know he was so susceptible to Hero Complexes, but Feliciano figured he couldn't help himself and sighed again, feeling happy butterflies in his stomach and jelly in his legs and the whole nine yards. He clutched at his school bag again, but for a totally different reason.

"Are you alright?" the officer asked after a moment of trying to decipher this odd behavior.

"Oh, yes, quite alright! Oh! Is this a viRusgun? The sort of thing that shoots out those little dart things that immobilize the bad guy! Ooh! I've never seen one before in real life!" The butterflies had invaded his mind and made him ramble. Grabbing the shiny weapon, Feliciano ran his fingers down it, his index itching toward the trigger. "Really, much more efficient than bullets or tazers or swords. I don't know how they could actually catch criminals back in the day!"

"Yes, well, biological defense is much more efficient," the STOP officer said, clearing his throat and carefully extracting his weapon from the chatty twin's hand. "Now, if you can safely make it home from here…"

Oh, he wasn't going to let the opportunity slip away so quickly! "Ah, well, actually I've got a few more blocks to go and I'm not very familiar with this part of town, it was a short cut, and I don't know if I might get lost or another creep might come, so maybe…perhaps…ah, if it's not too much trouble, you could walk me home?" He wasn't a very vague sort of person.

It was a STOP officer's duty to protect the common citizen, so Feliciano found himself happily (he was, at least; the officer was more dutiful) accompanied a bit of the way home. "My name is Feliciano Vargas! I go to that really big school in the city with those big iron gates! It's really my second year. What's your name? Do you live around here? How old are you?"

"My name is Ludwig Weillschmidt, I finished my STOP training two years ago and I live in the STOP residences in the city. I turned twenty-five three months ago." It was basically rattling off his stats and it didn't look like it would hurt to give this airheaded boy a bit of information about himself. After all, STOP really was for the citizens, and the director had told them to interact with them.

"Wow!" Then, after a brief pause. "I'm in love with you!"

Ludwig was starting to think twice about saving this energetic brunette from the pervert in the alley, no matter what his job. He should have just walked away. Now, it seemed he had saved someone with a questionable amount of self-restraint and sanity. It was now a time where sexuality was not much of a problem (the Solidities had made it clear that male or female, straight or gay, black or white, it didn't matter), but out-of-the-blue confessions still retained their shock factor.

"Whoa, that just slipped out of my mouth, didn't it?" For that recall, the boy looked oddly unapologetic for it. "But, still, thank you very much for saving me back there! I haven't really been saved before. I mean, my big brother makes sure I'm always okay! But I couldn't find him after school today, so I walked home myself. Oh! I'm not keeping you, am I?"

He was under the impression he was walking the boy to his house…

"I really _am _sorry, you know…for saying that." It seemed like the boy had noticed his discomfort. "I mean…I do often say the wrong things at the wrong times…my name is Feliciano, by the way! Feliciano Vargas!" He extended his hand with a welcome smile. "It was very nice to meet you, Ludwig!"

Ludwig looked at his hand, then to his eager face, and found himself clipping the gun back to his waist and accepting the hand. He shook it, once, twice…and Feliciano didn't let go. Before he could say something about it, Feliciano suddenly shot up, inching his mouth toward his with the speed of a practiced cougar. But of course, Ludwig was older, and faster.

"Hold it right there, boy." Feliciano inhaled sharply when he felt the barrel of the viRusgun pressed against his stomach. "Any more of this behavior and I _will_ take you in for lewd behavior."

Feliciano shivered, falling back and taking a step back for good measure. "Anticipation has a habit to set you up for disappointment," he shrugged, looking a bit sheepish and a lot devious. "I'm Italian, you know."

"That makes no difference."

"It does so! But that's okay. I'm home!" Feliciano gestured to the quant little house next to them. "I've never been walked home before, and that's what they do in the movies. A nice kiss on the cheek and a good bye. I'm seventeen, you know!"

"Yes, I heard." A buzz over his pager told him he had business elsewhere. "I must be going, if you'll excuse me." _And even if you didn't._

"Oh, of course. You're a STOP officer, after all." Feliciano rocked back and forth like he was waiting for something to happen. When it didn't, he shrugged and skipped up the path to the door, waving over his shoulder. "Bye-bye!"

So today had been interesting, Ludwig thought as he took the railcar transit for the fastest route to the scene of the petty theft. His brother had been saying things had gotten quieter, but perhaps just ordinary life wasn't boring enough. At least it was a once meeting; he didn't know if he could handle a twice, or a thrice.

Feliciano sighed as he leaned against the front door. Romano wasn't home yet; where had he gone? Well, whatever his brother had gotten up to, it wasn't as bad as him. Not only had he gotten word vomit, but he just appeared lackadaisical and hyper to someone as cool and collected like Ludwig. Ludwig wasn't like the boys at school, or the girls for that matter. He was older and mysterious and he'd saved him.

It had to be a sign. A sign that something was going to happen in his dull, Solidite-citizen life. Things were going to happen, and good ones at that. He couldn't wait to get started.

To be continued

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Note: Charlie is Belgium. In my head, that is a perfect name for her and that is her accent. I like her. Yes, Spain is another pedophile(ish) in this one. The only way I like him. And I have a fierce moe for freakedout!Germany/overenthusiastic!Italy. I'm a fan. I hope you're a fan too. Did this make you want to read more? Review, please.


	3. I Bet That You'd Look Good

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: Track 3 – I Bet That You'd Look Good on the Dancefloor – Arctic Monkeys

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_3 – I Bet That You'd Look Good on the Dancefloor_

He had come in. Remy watched him from the corner of his eyes, pretending to preoccupied by the crooning of the woman on the stage. But really, she was not as interesting; he came bearing a box, which he extracted bottles of aged wine from. He was currently chatting with the bartender, the accented woman who had shown him in, and a kid he hadn't seen before. Remy turned back to the blonde woman, who had picked up the mood with a swing tune, with a jazz instrumental background. He saw a few older patrons stand up and perform a few moves. They were also rather interesting.

"You're here again."

Remy looked up, his chin leaving its temporary roost on his hand. The man smiled lopsidedly, pulling a chair up to the tiny café table. "You're what they call…a regular. You like it here that much?"

"This place has its merits," Remy said airily, waving his hand about before resting it again under his chin.

"Like what?" The man slapped his head, laughing. "Oh, duh. Alcohol. I bring it." He smiled, trying to catch Remy's eyes, which had turned back to the stage. "You like her?" he asked, nodding toward the woman on the stage. "She'll be back next Wednesday; I could introduce you to her if you'd like."

"She's alright," Remy mused, glancing at him. "A bit screechy, though."

"Screechy! Like you've got high standards, Remy." There was a pause as the woman purred out another seductive lyric, the old bags dancing leaning toward each other. "Say, I know _your_ name, because I asked, but I don't think I introduced myself."

"I don't have any interest in the caterer," Remy responded, swirling the liquid in his shot before downing it.

"Leik. My name's Leik. Weird, huh? We've known each other for maybe…a week or two, and you still didn't know what to call me!" He grinned again, watching Remy interestedly.

"I didn't care."

"So what're you here for? Fun and thrills? You don't seem old enough to have drunk before the Laws. Rebellion, is that it? Going against your parents?"

"I'm twenty-two," Remy clarified, shooting Leik a glare over his empty glass before he set it down with a rather hostile _clink_!

"Oh! I thought you were…it's just…" For some odd reason, Leik looked even happier; like perhaps since he was older, he was more game? "I thought you were younger…you look…I don't know. So, uh…back to the original question…"

"I don't know. I heard about this place from a friend. You're right; cheap thrills. Don't know what I'm looking for here." He stood, leaving the tip on the table as he shrugged on his jacket. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to be getting home. My kid brother's waiting for me."

"Do you want me to walk you home?" Leik stood as well, a bit quickly Remy noticed.

"Why would you want to?"

"Why _wouldn't_ I want to, is the question," Leik nodded. "I'm done for the night and I've got nothing to do. Let's go!" Following Remy out the back exit, Leik waved to the bartender, who was still chatting with the underage kid who had come in. "See ya, Tony! Say bye to Chars for me!"

"Bye!"

The backdoor comprised of a hidden trapdoor in a back alley, over which a fake dumpster sat. It was well hidden from sight and no one saw two figures come out from the place and make their way toward the road again.

"So you said you had a kid brother?"

"Yeah. Fourteen. Why do you want to know?"

"Hey, friends should know everything about each other!"

"We're not friends," Remy insisted, trying to veer away from Leik, who he swore was walking closer to him. Never mind there was a wall to his other side and it was dripping some sort of seedy mold.

"Sure we are." Remy jumped as he felt an arm snake around his shoulders and Leik pulled him away from the wall. "We walked for days already and we know enough about each other. And if we're not friends yet, why can't we?"

"I'm not interested in making friends," Remy said, tapping Leik's arm away as they reached the main road.

"Are you usually this cold?" Leik grinned, turning to look at him. When Remy ignored him, he started humming, a tune the latter recognized as the song the woman had been singing. "You know, you seem like you'd be a really friendly guy, if you'd open up. I bet that you'd look good on the dance floor. You should dance next time."

"I'm not a dancer," Remy shot down, admiring the way he was pulling off this conversation stoppers at lightning speed.

"That's what they all say. Tell you what. I'll dance with you next time. So you won't feel awkward. You're my favorite, you know. Of everyone that goes to Speak. You're the best."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, for starters, you don't seem too interested in the alcohol." Leik had fallen into step with him and Remy started focusing his effort into creating a new rhythm to his step so they weren't in unison anymore. "It's like you go there for something else."

"Why are you interested?" Remy stopped, studying Leik for a moment. "It's not _you_, if that's what you're wondering."

"I never said it was," Leik said, looking slightly affronted.

"You're annoying. Annoyingly loud." Remy gestured to the apartment building behind them. "Sadly, you know where I live now. If I see you on the premises, I'm calling STOP."

Leik made a face. "I don't need that kind of scare, now. Take care of yourself, Remy. I'll see you later."

--

"Scotch? Sherry? Tequila?"

Romano shook his head vehemently, the names Antonio was throwing out seeming so exotic on his ears. Alcohol had been banned, and effectively too. Even as the bartender was shaking the bottles of liquids at him, Romano was feeling uneasy; like he was doing something he didn't know how to do for the first time.

"Would you like to try some?"

"It's illegal," Romano insisted, the words the only defense he could think of.

"Just a sip?"

"No." Romano turned away from the colored bottles Antonio was brandishing. "I don't know what it is."

"Gin. Rum. Vodka." Antonio was rattling out the name with a satisfied nod. "So I assume you'd prefer virgin drinks?"

"Me being a virgin has nothing to do with whatever I drink!" Romano protested hotly.

"It means there's no alcohol in your drink, silly," Antonio laughed. "That's cute, though. A lot of people who visit here aren't."

Romano flushed, wishing the topic had stayed on the innocent track it had started on. Charlie had disappeared upstairs to man the store and no one had come up to order a drink. The woman on stage had finished her performance and had been replaced by a jazz band. The smell of alcohol had never appeared stronger to Romano, who was still unused to it.

"Do you need to be getting home, Romano?"

"Probably. It's already five and my stupid brother's probably waiting for me."

"I guess I could finish early. Charlie can whip up a mean margarita. We could close shop early. We stop accepting people around ten, since the General Store is our cover and we can't have people just coming in and out when the establishment isn't open all day!" Antonio grinned, putting down the bottles he had taken out to show Romano. "I'll walk you home."

"Like I need you to walk me home," Romano scoffed.

"Don't be stubborn. I haven't talked to you in ages. We have loads to catch up on." Antonio continued smiling at him, something Romano found unsettling, and pressed something around his waist (a pager? A pedometer?) and in a moment or so, Charlie had come downstairs.

"Whatcha need, Tony?"

"Could you take over for a half hour or so? I want to walk Romano home."

"Sha thing, sweets. Don' be gone long; you know ah get antsy whenever no one's upstaihs."

"Of course," Antonio said, with mock exasperation, slipping around the entrance to the bar and knocking hips with Charlie, who was coming in. She laughed, batting his arm before giving his collar a tweak.

"Don' be gone lang, Tony!" She waved cheerfully as Antonio chuckled and led Romano back up the stairs to the store.

"Normally, we would leave through the backdoor, but since neither of us had anything to drink, we should be fine even if any STOP cop stops us in the street." Romano blinked as the relative light of the main store flooded his eyes and he could smell gunpowder again.

"I thought gunpowder was illegal?"

"Gunpowder is the least of our worries. And anyway, it's just from the guns. Hell if we were really going to wash them. They're just there for show anyway."

"What would you do if someone came in not for…you know." Romano nudged the ground with his shoe and Antonio shrugged, closing the locking the saloon doors behind him.

"We sell some stuff…it's not our main source of income, though. We've got odd jobs to cover the money, though." Antonio stretched, breathing in the air from the setting sun. "Where to? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with where you live."

"The Italian side of town."

"Little Italy?"

"South of that."

They continued in silence, the electric cars running past whirring and filling the gap between the two. The quiet was growing increasingly awkward for Romano, who finally felt compelled to speak up. Antonio had started as well.

"So how have you…"

"How did your bar get started?"

There was another awkward mumble as they debated which question to answer, before Antonio dropped the subject and explained. "Speak hasn't been around for that long. I started it with my friend Charlie a few months before the end of your school year before you attended high school. We lived before during the Solidite-Liberator War, and Charlie's father was killed by the Solidities after the war. When I meant her, I didn't know; but she told me everything – how the Solidities are more interested in building a perfect society than the society's happiness. These sort of radical ideas are usually silenced so we don't express them publicly. She suggested we…shake things up a bit, and we found the place and started it. We've got a few allies around the city; there's another – Easy."

"Oh." Then, "Sorry about her father."

"Oh, it's alright, although you might want to say that to Charlie. She'll like you a lot if you express empathy like that. She's a nice girl."

A nice girl? "Are you and Charlie…"

"Brother!" Before Romano could read Antonio's face to discover the answer to the question he hadn't actually formulated yet, his twin brother Feliciano came barreling out of the house in front of them into his arms. "I was so worried! We didn't know where you went!"

"Stupid…!"

"Ah! You're…Mr. Carriedo, right? The nice advisor guy! I didn't have you; I had the other mean woman. How are you?" Carefully extracting himself from Romano's grasp, Feliciano grinned cordially and extended his hand, which Antonio took and shook. "My name is Feliciano. I'm Romano's younger twin brother."

"Nice to meet you. I heard you back at the school. Call me Antonio; I think you two are old enough to use adult names."

"Hi! Nice to meet you!" Feliciano looked from him to Romano, who was glaring at him pointedly. "Did you two meet up? Was that why he was late?"

"That's right! Romano wanted to keep talking, but I insisted he go home, so I walked him here. I guess I'll see you later, Romano?" Antonio cocked his head, sticking his hands in his pockets. "It was nice meeting you, Feliciano. Take care, Romano. We still have much to catch up on."

"Yeah. Whatever."

Feliciano watched Antonio walk down the street, grabbing the air until he found Romano's hand. "He's nice, Romano. I like him. Who exactly is he?"

"I don't really know." He watched Antonio's retreating figure until he realized Feliciano was staring at him and dragged his brother back into the house. "Why are you home? I thought you would still be at the school. I was about to go get you."

"I was walking home by myself when this guy came up to talk to me! He was starting to get kind of scary and he was trying to kiss me…" He shook his head vehemently when Romano started to look hungry for blood. "That's not what happened! This STOP officer came out of nowhere and saved me! His name's Ludwig! I like him a lot!"

"You learned the guy's name?" Romano asked, shaking his bag into the foyer and heading to his room to change.

"Yup! Ludwig! He's super nice! Romano, I think I like him. Like, more than friends."

"You just met the guy. You weren't even friends to start with."

"It's love," Feliciano insisted, sighing happily as he watched Romano pull the sweater over his head. "I'm going to find out more about him, Romano. Maybe I'll have you meet him! He's really nice; you'll like him a lot."

"I'm sure."

"He's no Antonio, but I think you won't mind him much either!"

"What's that supposed to mean, dammit…!"

To be continued

--

Note: This fic has gotten a bit of a bad rap…still, I hope you'll read until the end. Hey, if readers can pout, so can I! Again, please visit That's What I'm Not by Plasticframed Paintings again for the another view of this AU. Thanks for reading, and review, please.


	4. Fake Tales of San Francisco

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: Track 5 – Fake Tales of San Francisco – Arctic Monkeys

---

_4 – Fake Tales of San Francisco_

Remy paused, key hovering in front of the lock to his apartment. This wouldn't be the first time he went home much later than his job at the bookstore would allow; his brother wasn't stupid, and he knew the shift ended at five. Still…perhaps he could still mystify the boy into thinking that it was something adults did – be late and mysterious and all the works.

"I'm home."

"So I noticed."

Remy closed the door behind him, staring into the living room, where his quiet, snowy-haired brother Karl sat, listlessly staring at the television. "How was school?"

"Fine."

"Did you go?"

"No."

Remy dumped his keys on the kitchen counter, frowning slightly. He didn't show emotion often, but when it came to his brother, he'd show anything. "Karl, you know how I feel about this. You're just a kid. You can't just go around missing school because you don't feel like it."

"Remy, you don't come home after you're finished with your shift anymore and you keep saying you're not seeing anyone. I'm having difficulty focusing if I need to worry about what you're doing afterwards."

"Don't worry about me; just go to school. You're only fifteen. You can't be a dropout."

Karl turned to him briefly. "Mom and dad," he said, knowing this beginning would make Remy squirm, "disappeared after the Liberator's War and you know how they felt about a Solidite school. I know enough to get by; I don't need them brainwashing me with some junk about how great they are."

"Karl, this sort of rebellion is not what they meant. You can't just go out of your way to stick it to the man. You know as well as I do what they do to people who don't behave; you know what happened to our parents."

There was a pause, pregnant with 'I-know-what's-best-for-you', but Karl cut him off.

"Your kind of rebellion isn't what they meant either."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I saw you. Outside. Who was that man you were with?"

"Just a friend." Err, he was actually referring to Liek as a friend. "None of your business."

"You smell. Like alcohol."

"I do?"

Karl turned off the television and made for his room. "I don't know what you're doing, and I don't want to know. I don't want to be in the Solidite program and you know how I feel about it. I'll go to school, but only because you said so, and I trust you." He turned when he reached his door, looking slightly regretful as if Remy had made the wrong choice, before retreating deeper into his room and closing the door.

--

Ludwig did not consider himself to be a popular person. All through youth, he was the one to blend in with the crowd; he did not make a fuss, he did not draw attention to himself. He was straight-laced, law-abiding, and modest. Those were the sort of qualities STOP officers had to have, obviously.

So when his (annoying) older brother Gilbert pulled him aside in between training and led him to the window, he was a bit taken aback when he saw a familiar brunette standing at the front gates, waving a cardboard sign that loud in big, rowdy letters _Ludwig Wellshmit_. This sort of activity was gaining attention, and people walking around the grounds had already turned to look. The guards at the front were instructed not to let anyone without identification inside the STOP facilities, but they couldn't stop anyone who wasn't making too big of a deal. When Ludwig had stopped in front of the window, Feliciano's waving became much more animated.

"Ludwig!"

"You've earned yourself an admirer," Gilbert smirked. "How did that happen?"

Ludwig didn't owe him an explanation. He left his brother at the window and sprinted downstairs, coming up to the front gates just as Feliciano started cheering like he'd seen his biggest idol.

"Ludwig! You came! I thought that if I couldn't get in, I could at least try and get your attention!"

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here." The pauses in between the words made them sentences of his their own, short and serious. Feliciano paused in his waving, lowering his hands and dropping the sign.

"I…I wanted to see you, that's all." When Feliciano said it like that, with wide brown eyes and a falter in his speech, he actually seemed genuine. Ludwig had heard of these sort of people before. They were called stalkers.

"Could you please leave, before you cause a riot?"

"But…but…I wanted to _see_ you!"

"And now you have. Now please go."

"But…but…" Feliciano was groping for a reason for Ludwig to stay. "But…STOP officers are supposed to protect citizens, right? What if…what if…a pervert comes to attack me again?"

"Please tell me you won't go looking for that man again."

Feliciano smiled in a fake-abashed way. "Well…I was wondering…would you like to go somewhere with me?" He abandoned the sign and gripped the bars of the front gate. Even with this restraint, Ludwig stepped back. The guard watching them gave him a wary look.

"Are you implying…a date?"

"Yes!" Feliciano's face shown. "Please, it's not a big deal if you're older than me. I know this is really sudden, but if you'll give me a chance…!"

"I'm sorry. I don't date children." The excuse, "I don't date men" was not applicable in this time and age, but pedophilia was still wrong. And anyway, Ludwig was not interested in any sort of intimate relationship with anyone. He was a STOP officer, and he had to keep things professional. If he was going to be with anyone, it would be a fellow officer, not a civilian who was loud, young, and naïve.

Feliciano stared at him for a moment, and Ludwig took his silence as acceptance and turned to leave. He hadn't reached even three steps away when Feliciano burst into tears, _loudly_ again.

"Is it because I talk too much? I won't! I'll act my age! I'll be quiet and I'll do adult things like talk about politics and drink tomato juice! I'll be legal in a couple months if that's the problem! I just like you so much and I want to see you outside of work and…" He had started to completely babble away. Other STOP officers were throwing him suspicious looks. It was okay to reject someone; it wasn't okay reject someone so brutally to leave them crying.

Ludwig didn't think he had been that mean, but he supposed different people had different standards. He doubled back.

"Alright, alright, I'll go somewhere with you. But we'll keep it professional and clean, alright? I've got to get you home before curfew." Curfew was set in place by the Solidities that depended on age. Curfew for citizens below twelve was nine-thirty at night; thirteen to eighteen was eleven; and anyone older was allowed until twelve-thirty to roam. The reasoning was to cut back night crime, and STOP officers were allowed to be out at all hours to enforce this rule. Identification had been on your person at all times.

"_Really_?" Hastily wiping his tears away, Feliciano shook all forms of sadness away from his face. "You mean it? We can go somewhere? Ooh! Where do you want to go? When can you go? Should I come here?" Whipping out his cell phone, a mass of silver and green, Feliciano beamed as he tapped the screen. "Can I have a number where I can reach you?"

This was not heading in the right direction. He did not want to disclose his personal phone number. "Why don't you give me your number, so I can contact you with the specifics." There. He wasn't compromising anything.

"_Ooh_, mysterious." Feliciano flushed, reaching into his pocket to scramble for some paper. "Here, I'll write it down…"

"I can memorize it. Just tell me."

"Ooh, you'll memorize it?! You'll commit _my number_ to memory? Wow!" Oh dear.

When Feliciano would finally leave ("Call me, Ludwig! I'll be waiting...!!"), Ludwig found that the STOP officers that had been watching this whole ordeal were shooting him looks of amusement. The older ones had shook their heads and walked away, but the newest recruits were holding back laughter.

"That was sweet, _Bruder_," Gilbert mocked. He had followed Ludwig out after all. "D'you think he's got a sister you can set me up with? Anyone related to that cuteness must be worth taking a look for."

"Mind your own business."

--

Against his better thinking, Romano found himself in front of General Store again. He grimaced; something brought him here, but he couldn't tell what. He'd tried to avoid the place for days, but somehow instead of taking the transit to his home stop, he'd ventured over to this part of town. Maybe if his brother was there to pull him home, he could have gone; but Feliciano had disappeared since lunch and he was not answering his phone.

Well, he was here; he may as well go inside.

He was an obedient citizen, Romano reasoned as he pressed the doors open. He had never gotten on the wrong side of the law; even when he had followed some of his stupid friends to graffiti the public library, he hadn't touched any of the paint cans himself. In fact, he had been the first to get away, what with Valletta and Cecil scrambling to collect their spray paint and leave. They had all escaped detection, but the fact of the matter was: even if he complained about it, he never broke rules. He was a Catholic.

It was the same deal, wasn't it? He wasn't drinking, he wasn't smoking anything. No one had told him to turn his friends in, but didn't the government tell people to turn in whoever they thought was suspicious? Wouldn't turning in the owners of an underground bar count as following the law, and not doing so count as obstruction to justice?

He might have gone on, if Antonio hadn't spoken up. "Romano! You're back so soon!"

Antonio was at the counter today; sleeves rolled up to his elbows, leaning against the glass display case and grinning widely. Romano made a mental note to bring a change of clothes the next time (next time? What was he thinking?) he came; he looked ridiculously underage in his uniform. "So can I interest ya in anything?"

"Where's Charlie?"

"Her shift isn't today." Romano thought he had said the password; yet Antonio was still standing and staring at him. If possible, he had started smiling wider. It wasn't so much a parental grin; more like if he wasn't careful, he'd be swallowed whole.

"Aren't we going to…you know…Speak?" Whoa, he sounded like he was well-versed in how to navigate such waters. Romano allowed himself a moment of pride at the way he phrased that question. Antonio caught on, but he shook his head.

"Let me clue you in on how we operate," Antonio said. "We change products every week."

Romano was aware he was staring at him incredulously. No one had told him that. Then again, he never asked or opted to find out. "Then…what am I here for?"

Antonio shrugged. "I don't know. But while you're here, let's talk! How have you been? Studies going well?"

"Okay, I guess." He didn't really want to step up to the counter. That would bring him closer into Antonio's court. He decided to go with the next best choice; he walked a distance down and walked up to the shelves of revolvers, looking down at how the counter's lights illuminated their shapes. He had never seen an old fashioned gun up close like that.

"You want to touch it?"

Romano jumped. Antonio had unexpectedly walked over. Before he could answer, the man slid the glass door back and reached for a black derringer with the image of a fallen angel on the handle. "Go on," he prompted, holding it out to Romano. "Hold it."

He'd read all about these sort of primitive weapons. They were not of interest to him, but if he was presented the chance to actually feel what people back in the day felt, he wasn't going to leave it. Reaching out as if the aged weapon was going to explode in his face, Romano took it, weighing it in one hand.

He didn't know how to explain it; it felt _right_ to be holding that gun. As if something in him approved of this. Romano had known how these things worked; press the trigger and the spring inside would force a small metal piece, a bullet, out at high speeds to inflict damage on whoever you were aiming at. He squeezed the little trigger; nothing happened.

"The safety's on on that thing," Antonio explained. Romano looked up, startled again when he saw Antonio was holding a revolver in his hands. "They had those, back then, to make sure little kids didn't shoot their heads off. This one was what the police used back then." With one swift motion, as if he had been educated in the lessons of quick draw, Antonio aimed the barrel at Romano's head.

They had been shown clips of what guns could do; machine guns, that rolled out numerous rounds per second, hand guns used for self defense, snipers to take out people from a distance. Every time, the one shot recoiled and bled; he'd seen enough images and video clips, from JFK to Gandhi. Antonio squeezed and he winced; the gun clicked.

"It doesn't have bullets, silly. They took them, remember? And I wouldn't shoot you, right in my own store." Antonio shook his head, chuckling and replacing the gun back in the shelf.

"Whoever got the gun first won," Romano said, and Antonio looked up; the boy had dislocated the safety and was aiming the barrel at him. "When they showed us westerns. There would be one in the middle of the road, and whoever got to it first shot and killed the other one. So I've got the upper hand here. Bang." Click. Antonio raised his eyebrows. "I always do."

"Romano…"

"If I had said anything, you wouldn't have had to quit; you'd have been fired."

Antonio stared at him, the smile gone from his face. Then it came back, slow and spreading at first. He reached over and pulled the derringer, jerking Romano forward toward the counter. "The password's 'through the ringer'. It's an old phrase. That was a freebie; come by later on this week and I'll tell you next week's. Okay?"

Romano scowled, elbowing Antonio in the chest before taking a step back. His guard had been down for a moment. Antonio, that bastard, had taken advantage of that. "Like hell I'll be back," he announced, shouldering his bag again as Antonio put the derringer back in its case. "The service here sucks."

"I'm sorry for your experience. Perhaps next time you will be…utterly _intoxicated_ by us?"

Antonio's knowing smile was infuriating, and Romano kicked a revolving shelf of pamphlets hard as he left.

To be continued

--

Note: Introducing Valletta and Cecil, my OCs. Valletta is Malta and Cecil is Sicily. They sort of are a big deal. If you enjoyed the part about Karl (Iceland), then please direct your attentions to PP, who is in charge of the Iceland arc. In fact, read his story. It's pretty sawds. PS – if you're reading this, PP, good choice of America and England for your character thing. Review, please!


	5. Dancing Shoes

**Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the story idea and only some of the witty remarks. I own so little; so please don't steal.**

Background music: Track 5 – Dancing Shoes – Arctic Monkeys

_5 – Dancing Shoes_

Graduating upperclassmen were all assigned middle school counselors, because obviously sixteen-year-olds had no control over their own future. In the middle school, there were only three counselors; an old woman with graying hair and fading hearing, a strict middle-aged woman who was very precise and commanding, and a relatively new and young man who was a favorite among the female students.

It was a clear consensus that the girls wanted the new male counselor and the boys wanted the old lady who wouldn't hear them half the time. Only the studious or courageous were willing to face Ms. Marls.

Romano came to school one morning and discovered he had been filtered into the young-and-stupidly-good-looking man's group, while his brother had been stuck in Ms. Marl's hell. He had not wanted to discuss his future with a grownup but that was a better alternative than listening to Feliciano whine during study hall about how he didn't want to die yet and anyway, he'd trade with Romano any day really…

The counselors' rooms were spread around the school; the old lady had a quiet office near the library; Ms. Marls had a room close to the math department; and the new guy had a corner hidden away in the sunniest of the school building. It always smelled like happiness and clones of Feliciano, so Romano always disliked venturing in that direction. Still, he forced himself to swallow the bitter taste of prep and open the door.

The chair at the desk swirled around and a (idiotically) smiling guy turned to face him. "Oh, hi! You must be…who are you?"

"Romano Vargas."

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Antonio Carriedo. Have a seat! Wow! You're the first one to see me today! I was thinking everyone forgot about me or something!" Romano bit back the comment that the girls were all too shy to actually go to any of their scheduled meetings. The room was warm and sunny. This man was smiling too much for him to like.

"So Romano! I think we should start by telling each other things about us! How about you start? I mean, I've got your file and everything, but I think it works much better if you tell me things you want me to know first. Are you alright? You don't seem very comfortable. Are you comfortable? Do you want a drink?"

"How old are you?"

The grinning man blinked. "I'm twenty-six, thanks for asking."

"It's just…I wouldn't think someone so young would be telling kids what to do with their lives." Romano wasn't usually so rude to adults, so he quickly added, "Mr. Carriedo."

"Oh, no, call me Antonio! All that 'Mr. Carriedo' makes me sound like an old man or something. And anyway, the school thought I would be adequate in doing my job. I mean, I am quite new in the field, but I know how things like this work. Is there anything else you'd want to know about me?"

"No, nothing."

"Well, what about you?" This Antonio-figure was watching him very closely, like he was an animal of study. Romano squirmed on the couch. "You've got a twin brother, don't you?" Antonio asked all of a sudden, before Romano could say anything. "I've seen him before in the halls. He seems like a nice kid."

"I guess."

"Y'know, this conversation can't happen if it's completely one-sided."

Romano glared at him. "I don't want to talk to you," he said quite honestly. "So if we could wrap this up today, that would be great."

Antonio didn't look particularly abashed. "I suppose if you're busy we can schedule a meeting for next time! It was nice to meet you, Romano. I hope you come see me so we can chat about your future!" It sounded like the programmed voices he'd heard when he dialed the phonebook operator.

"Right." Romano stood and went to the door but paused when Antonio started speaking.

"I'm sorry you don't like me, Romano. But I hope we can become friends. You can tell me anything and it'll stay in this room! Anything, really…from people you don't like and people you_ do_ like…"

"No, thanks." Romano looked back into the room, at the expectant face of his persistent counselor. "Those sort of things just wouldn't be private anymore."

He had quit the 'Go-Home-After-School' club and had jointed the 'Illegal-Visiting-of-Underground-Bars' club. Romano didn't know why he was here; but he'd changed clothes and wandered over to General Store, exchanged a few words with Charlie at the counter ("If you're too poor to get some central heating in here, people will be chilled _to the bone_ in winter." – and he'd had to look up how that old saying actually was used), and found himself with Antonio again.

Apparently, today was Dance Night.

They'd found some sort of DJ; a freelancer who didn't mind dabbling in private speakeasies. The one in question was wearing a red cap and huge headphones over his ears although micro ear buds had been invented; personally, Romano had never seen such headgear before. Everything about Speak was somewhat distorted back to the beginning of the twenty-first century.

"You wanna dance, Romano?"

Romano surveyed Antonio, standing jauntily behind the bar with a glass in one hand and a bottle of scotch in the other, coolly. "Not with you, I don't." And this music was some sort of odd mixtures of sounds. It was called techno, and there were people sporting seventies clothing or sunglasses. It was astounding.

"Oh, come on. It's not that bad. I'll teach you some classic dance moves!" Antonio clamored over the bar, nearly knocking a bowl of nuts onto the ground. Patrons didn't bat an eyelash; the bartender was always more of flashy, passionate sort. Romano couldn't protest when Antonio grabbed his hand and pulled him into the pulsating crowd.

"Hey, Liek!" Romano was just getting his bearings after his ears were assaulted by the loud music when he noticed Antonio had picked his attentions to the bootlegger. He'd gotten to know who Liek was and what his purpose was, but he wasn't a big fan. In his opinion, Liek was almost as bad as Antonio.

"Tony!" Liek grinned over the music and clapped Antonio on the back. He was standing next to a completely still young man, who was staring listlessly into the crowd as if he had better things to do than be there; noticing Romano staring at him, he turned, showing bored eyes. "I don't think you two have met! This is my friend, Remy. He comes here often."

"Hi!"

"Nice to meet you," Remy rattled off, not bothering to extend his hand or further the introduction. He took to staring off again and Antonio turned back to Liek.

"How are things?"

"Fine. I'm still getting a steady supply although I'm having a bit of a time trying to find more of the old stuff. There was this bootlegger at Matthew's place but he was…displayed we could say when that bar was closed. I'm still trying to see if I can track down anyone who knew his sources. Oh! And there's been a problem."

Antonio looked interested. "What…sort of problem?"

"The Solidities. They're making a move against speakeasies."

"What?"

"Not sure. But I heard this on the street. They're going to do something drastic, pass a law, bitch about it, I don't know. But apparently it's going to be a big deal. Security isn't too tight and I can smuggle what I get my hands on pretty easily…nothing's really changed so I don't know what that's about." Liek shrugged, still moving slightly from the music. "I'll update you on that if I get more wind about it."

"Alright." Antonio turned back to Romano, whose interest was waning, and pulled him deeper into the crowd. "Come on! There's tons of stuff. Did you know that back in the day, there was this song that really wasn't a song, but a guy just telling you what to do and you did it? Some sort of slide. It was a big deal! They played it at almost every dance party."

"Dance party?"

"Oh, right. I forgot. It's one of things the Solidities outlawed, along with moshpit concerts. There was a problem with drug use at those sort of things, since it was dark and everyone was moving. Anyway, people would just hold these big things where there was music playing all night long and all you did was dance."

"That's it? Nothing else?"

"Nothing else."

"That's stupid." Concerts nowadays involved some sort of activity going around; the music players were just backdrop. Idleness of just dancing or just listening was unheard of. Idle hands are the devil's workshop…or some old phrase like that.

"There were a ton of those sort of dance moves. They got popular around the turn of the century but there we have our old ballroom sorts too." A particularly steady beat started and Antonio grinned. "Actually, this move was frowned upon but no one really went to any means to stop it until the Solidities came around." Unexpectedly, Romano found Antonio's hands on his waist and allowed himself to be led toward him, until he was pressed against the bartender and that wasn't strange enough…

"What are you doing, you pervert?"

Antonio blinked. "It's called grinding."

"It's completely disgusting!" Romano darted out of the crowd, feeling a warm pool of shame collect in his stomach. First of all, Antonio was about a decade older than him (that made him sound _so_ much older, actually), and he didn't really know him all that well, really! Not only that, but even though society was accepting, Catholicism still said it was wrong! Those sort of things…!

"Romano!"

Antonio had followed him and grabbed his wrist right as they reached the bar again. Swirling around, Romano's face was flushed and he was about to rebuke Antonio when strange words just tumbled out of his mouth. "I'm seeing someone."

"Really?" There was genuine surprise there. Antonio didn't let go of his wrist.

"Yeah. A really nice girl."

"You should bring her around." Antonio dropped his hand. "She might like it here."

"I don't think so. She's not the kind of person who would do this sort of thing." Come to illegal activities, do perverted things. Who was this girl he was describing anyway?

"She shouldn't be involved with someone who _is_," Antonio pointed out.

"Well, she doesn't know."

"You shouldn't be leading her on if you really care about her."

"What do you know? You don't know anything about me." Romano shrank back, gripping the seat he was falling into. "Doing that sort of stuff…when I'm not interested…"

"I could have almost sworn you were." Antonio raised an eyebrow, his look telling of things past.

"You thought wrong." At that moment, Charlie appeared, like a beam of neutrality and the frown on Antonio's face disappeared. Wiggling her ruby red nails, she acknowledged Romano with a smile before turning back to her partner.

"Tony, ah couldn't help it. Ah can't keep workin' when it's Dance Night. We rake in enough, don't we?" She leaned in with a smile. "It's rather bold of me, but ah like this sang; you wanna dance?"

"Sure." Beaming, Antonio took her arm and they walked into the fray, into the wildly booming crowd of flying limbs and crazy beats. Romano watched them for a moment more before getting his stuff and running out the back door.

Feliciano glanced at his watch. He had been staring at his phone for three hours now, not doing homework and not going to see if there was anything tasty to eat in the kitchen. No – he had watched his phone and willed it to ring.

It did not. It sat cold on the floor of his room.

He'd gone through all the possible things he could say to Ludwig. Everyone seemed more mundane than the first until Feliciano decided to just wing it. He couldn't plan it. Suppose Ludwig didn't say what he was planning for him to say? Then he'd be thrown off.

Just ring…!

The door swung open, startling Feliciano from his perch on the floor. Romano came in, looking thunderous and violent when he let his school bag fall to the floor carelessly. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. Feliciano winced at the tone; Romano was not in a good mood.

"I'm just…"

"I don't give a damn. Just don't bother me." Throwing himself on his bed, Romano carried his dark cloud with him.

"Where were you?"

"Shut up and don't talk to me, dammit." Feliciano pouted. If Romano was going to be stubborn, then he would take his phone and his daydreams elsewhere, perhaps the kitchen where he could eat and wait at the same time. It had only been a couple of hours since he'd given Ludwig his number. The call would come soon. Very soon.

To be continued

Note: I am an epic fail. I apologize for dropping this momentarily, but mostly to PP. YOU ROCK MAN and I fail. But yes, I did just talk about grinding in this story. I realized that this really is not very well-knit together. I'm just throwing around random events. PP how do you do it? ARG!


End file.
